Page 53 of Unrivaled

The amusement bleeds out of her face as she nods. “Yeah. I know. Which is why all this,” she waves a hand around, indicating all the new additions to the space, “is such a surprise. I was happy with what you had the last time, so it didn’t occur to me that you would add to that already, and so … extravagantly. And now for Ben to discover you havescissors, his absolute most favorite thing, he must think he’s died and gone to heaven.”

A warm glow fills my chest that I got something that he loves. “If there’s anything I’m missing that he’d really like, let me know. I’ll get it before next time.”

She nods, still somber. “Next time …”

The words hang in the air between us.

She sucks in a breath, her luscious tits pressing against the low scoop neck of her sweater, drawing my eyes involuntarily. I quickly look back at her face, and either she doesn’t notice me checking out her tits, or she’s choosing to ignore it.

“Are you expecting next time to be just you two?” she asks quietly, just above a whisper. “Without me?”

I open my mouth, hesitating. Glancing at Ben happily cutting at his table, I make my decision and give a nod that’s firmer than I really feel. “Yeah.” I have to clear my throat to get the hoarseness out of my voice. “Yeah, I think it’d be good for us. He seems pretty happy and comfortable here already, don’t you think?”

Looking in his direction, her expression turns wistful. “Yeah,” she whispers. “He does.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Tiffany

I should be glad that Ben is comfortable at Grayson’s place so quickly. I already knew that Grayson wanted to have Ben on his own soon. He’s said so from the beginning. But part of me thought, with the kissing maybe …

Maybe he wouldn’t actually want that to be part of the schedule. Maybe he’d be content only getting Ben to himself when I have an appointment or something.

And then there’s the tiny, anxious part of me that worries … what if Ben prefers Grayson over me? What if Grayson tries to take Ben away from me? What if …?

A multitude of questions swirl in my head, around and around, dizzying me with the implications.

I know that I’m being ridiculous. Mostly. I can’t imagine a world where my son would prefer a virtual stranger over me, even if that stranger is his biological father.

But there’s no denying the way his face lit up when he saw all the child sized furniture in this otherwise bare bones apartment. There’s more of that here than at our house. We have a booster seat for him, and a play table outside on the back patio, but otherwise he sits on the regular furniture like the rest of us.

That chair with the shark face close to the couch is adorable … but I’ve looked at those kinds of things. Even if we had somewhere to put it, they’re expensive.

I guess Grayson’s parents do alright if his mom went on an impromptu shopping spree last night without batting an eye. He said she’s an interior designer, but I have no idea what his dad does. Does he rely on their money? But if so, why not let his mom buy him nicer furniture?

While “dumpster rescue” might be taking it a bit too far, his couch has definitely seen better days. The steel blue fabric over the piping is nearly worn away on the arms, white cord showing through almost as much as it’s covered. Sagging seat cushions and flattened back pillows round out the look.

“I know it’s not much to look at.” Grayson steps up behind me, following my gaze to his couch. “But it’s comfortable as long as you don’t sit in the middle. That’s a sinkhole.”

Chuckling, I turn to face him. “I sat on it last week, remember? I know. Well, I didn’t realize about the middle seat. But your mom does have a point that it’s not nearly as nice as Ben’s new furniture.”

He laughs, making a face that reminds me so much of Ben that my heart seems to constrict, painfully squeezing in on itself.

Not that there was really any doubt about Ben’s paternity—and if there had been, the DNA test would’ve fixed that—but seeing expressions that I’ve always considered uniquely my son’s on someone else’s face is … disconcerting to say the least.

I love those expressions. And even though I find Grayson attractive and I like his kisses too much for my own sanity, I’m definitely not in love with him.

Not yet,whispers a voice in my head that I slap away and firmly ignore. I’m not going to fall in love with Grayson.

“So are we ever going to address the elephant in the room?” Grayson murmurs.

I glance at Ben, who’s happily reducing the paper Grayson gave him into a pile of confetti, his face screwed up in concentration. Grayson might think he’s being smooth, but I’m well aware that little ears pick up more than you realize.

Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “Not right now.” I glance meaningfully toward my son.Ourson. Even though it’s been weeks since Grayson showed up, it’s still difficult for me to think of him that way.

“I can think of another elephant that needs addressing,” I murmur, gratified by Grayson’s confused look. “You. The NFL draft. When is that? How long are you going to be out of town? And what happens after?”

A range of expressions crosses his face before settling on wary. He looks down and smooths his hand over the soft fabric of his joggers. “I’ll be going to the combines at the end of this month. I’ll be gone for about a week, then again at the end of April for the actual draft.” He lifts his hands in a shrug. “After that? I’ll finish out the semester and then I’ll need to find a place to live in whichever city I’ll be playing for.”

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